Luck
by Ethereal Light
Summary: You're five, six, seven, eight and, sometimes, you just want to cry, cry, cry


**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters in the xxxHolic universe is only a humble fanfic writer

_warning: Spoilers for Volume 10 (Chapter 120-something I believe) of xxxHolic!  
_  
**Author's Note:** Oh goodness, almost a year since we've left this account 'Tis **Elaeye** speaking here! A quick little ficlet I wrote, straying out of my main fandom right now. There's quite a bit of angst here, I'm sorry Inspired by _xxxHolic_ Volume 10 because Himawari-chan is such a wonderful character and doesn't get enough love A little bit of a warning - I tend to run-on and write in neat fragments a lot but it was intentional. Enjoy

* * *

You're five.

You're five and the tennis ball has just disappeared into the leafy recesses of the neighbour's backyard. It was a _nice_ tennis ball; your lips tremble and you look half-heartedly towards the patio ('Tou-san and 'Kaa-san are laughing with their visitor and you don't really want to disturb them).

You bend over, searching for the little crack in wooden fencing (what a cliché, you think later on) but you find it. You find the hole (just big enough to crawl through) and you're suddenly in soft grass next door. And you see the ball – its lovely yellow standing out from the green and you rush over there and pick it up.

It's lying in the little patch of three-leaf clovers – clovers you've never seen before (not very friendly neighbours, 'Tou-san always says) – and you stare at them for a second.

"Himawari-chan!"

And the voice of the lady-next-door is so sharp, so shocked, you can only stammer, "B-Ball…?" before seeing her hastily concealed anger and rushing back into your own back garden.

It's already tomorrow.

It's only afterwards you see the blackened lawn and a pile of scorched ashes where those three-leaf clovers had been. You're five and you watch the house burn.

--

You're six and you're at the hospital – staring at the closed doors of the operating theatre, hearing the silence and the slow ticking of the clock on the wall. You're seven and you hear the ghostly echoes of laughter.

"_Do you want to take a different route home?"  
"Okay!"  
"Let's go then Rika!" And then there's a screeching and sound of shattering glass and you can't see, can't see, can't see anything except the red near your foot and the faraway flicker of her hair_.

--

You're seven and you're playing with a neighbour – not _those_ neighbours because 'Kaa-san says they're taking a holiday (but you know better later on, when you're able to read the 'For Sale' sign on their house by yourself). Not them, not them because Ayumi nee-chan is nice and she pats you on the head with a gentle hand. And in the shade of your backyard, you're making daisy chains with her, she's smiling ("Would you like me to plait your hair Himawari-chan?") and you think maybe it will be like this forever.

You're still seven when you see the scissors, the white round pills littered over Ayumi nee-chan's bed and the flashing red of the ambulance and the stained note that is left almost politely on her bedroom table. And when you can imagine those scissors _snip, snip, snipping_ away at the origami flowers you were making the day before, you let yourself cry into 'Kaa-san's shoulder because, because _Ayumi-nee isn't come back is she?_

--

It's only after the whispers in the hall stop (you're eight and you're still only in second grade) that you start to miss them. You miss the people who always seem to be going away – like Rumiko-sensei who smelt of lollipops and perfume and wore those _swish, swish, swishing_ dresses; Rumiko-sensei who used to smile at you and give you rainbow stickers on your notebooks ("You're very good at calligraphy Himawari-chan. Good job!")

And then Obaa-san is suddenly visiting you – Obaa-san who smells of smoke and tea and pats your hand with her own wrinkled ones. And you like Obaa-san, who sits you down in her lap and sings lilting songs for you and offers you her tea (you always say 'No thank you' because it's so bitter) and sometimes even makes rice cakes for you to eat.

It's Obaa-san who takes you to that funny place (not scary, just funny) of white paper, more drifty-smoke and dotted with reddish-brown vases you're not to touch. It's Obaa-san who kneels next to you when the Oji-san of the shrine takes your hand. You're not scared (not really) when he closes his milky eyes and hums a strange little tune.

It's still Obaa-san who clutches your hand as the Oji-san of the shrine opens his milky eyes and tells her you're "a normal little girl". You look into the Oji-san's eyes and feel confused (Were you not a normal little girl? Had you been a bad little girl?). Obaa-san asks more questions and, suddenly, the Oji-san is looking into your eyes. You feel like crying – there is so much sadness, so much tenderness, so much… (_pity_ is the word – you learn that later).

Oji-san's voice echoes strangely around the shrine of white paper and drifty smoke. "But the girl makes others unhappy. She doesn't choose who it happens to. She'll do it to everyone with the exception of the parents who bore her."

You want to cry – you want to cry because you remember the three leaf clovers, Rika-chan's beautiful smile, Ayumi-nee-chan and you remember Rumiko-sensei and her lollipops. You want to cry "_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"_ because you liked them, you didn't mean it. You hold in your tears because Oji-san is gazing at you so sadly it's sad enough for the two of you.

"It really happens. With just a word or touch or just being around a person, one can lead somebody down the path of unhappiness. Human beings do it. Maybe they do it _because_ they are human."

You leave after that, holding Obaa-san's hand, and you're trembling because you're scared, _scared_ – and Obaa-san just looks at you kindly. _"It's not your fault Himawari."_

You come back the next week, back to the place of white paper and drifted smoke. You gaze up onto a photograph of Obaa-san and wish you hadn't found out. You gaze upon the photo and remember the milky sadness in Oji-san's eyes and cry, cry, _cry_.

--

And you sit in your bedroom, clutching your pyjamas, and you finger the ridges along your back. They don't hurt - Yuuko-san said they wouldn't – and you thank her inside your heart for the little favour. You're crying, _crying_ as you envision that drifty smoked bedroom, the embroidered butterfly curtain and Watanuki-kun's bandaged figure inside.

"_I consider the fact that I met you to be one of the happiest things in my life."_

You're smiling and you're crying because you've broken your vow – the vow you made standing in front of Obaa-san's shrine. The ghostly echoes of that grief ring in your ears. _"I promise I will keep smiling. I will not cause them any pain. I will do my best not to ever, ever be mean to them,"_ a small choking sob, "_So please…please don't let me hurt someone else again!"_

You finger the long scars on your back and remember those warm eyes. "_I'm sorry for making you worry Himawari-chan."_

And you're finally able to smile – a sad, tearful _genuine_ smile – and you repeat your words earlier as you gazed back at the Shop of Wishes.

"Thank you Watanuki-kun. I'm glad I met you too."

---_finis_


End file.
